Wardrobe Mishaps
by CharmedArtist
Summary: Harry arrives at the hotel for a business meeting to find he took someone else's suitcase. Turning up to the meeting in borrowed clothes, he finds that someone else is faced with the same issue... (Snarry slash)


When Harry got to the hotel and opened his suitcase, he found himself staring in shock at the contents. "Fucking hell," he breathed, gaze locked on the neatly folded clothing. "This isn't my suitcase." He did have to admit, though, the suitcase's true owner had style. Checking all the pockets revealed no name or contact number, and as he pulled on a very nice outfit and spelled it to fit he hoped that whoever had taken his suitcase found the slip of paper in the very front pocket. For now, he feared he'd have to go to his business meeting in borrowed clothing – borrowed clothing that looked pretty amazing on him, he thought as he admired his reflection. It was a simple black suit and white shirt, the emerald green tie almost matching his eyes and the shoes of the finest quality. Spells ensured that everything would fit for the evening, and he had to admit that he looked more professional than if he'd worn his own clothing. Maybe he should buy a proper suit when he got back to London.

Arriving at the meeting, Harry mingled with the other attendees for a while before a tall, striking man strode into the room, leaving Harry speechless. Not because of the man's looks – for he wasn't conventionally handsome by any means – but because under the familiar black jacket lay a deep red shirt that threw the man's pale skin and dark hair into stark relief. The man immediately focused on Harry, and it was clear that he, too, recognized his clothing on the other male.

"Ah, Mister Snape!" the host called out, giving Harry a name to go with the man. Turning his attention to the host, the new arrival greeted him with a voice that sent a shiver up Harry's spine with its silkiness.

"Mister Jones. A pleasure." How could anyone have such clear diction with such a low, rumbling voice?

Abruptly the attention was on Harry, and he reacted instinctively. Holding out his hand to the taller man, he said, "Harry Potter. How do you do."

"How do you do," the other man murmured, accepting Harry's hand with a firm grip. His hand was cold and his gaze assessing – and yet Harry felt a thrill that had nothing to do with intimidation. Giving the other man a warm smile, he managed to make small talk until they were invited to dinner – and found himself seated across the table from the distracting man.

Keeping his eyes deliberately averted as he unfolded his napkin, Harry wondered just why he found the other man so distracting. His first impression of the man's looks hadn't changed, and the man was cool and reserved in a way that Harry tended to find unsettling… He decided, after a stolen glance, that it was the clothing. His clothing. It was… strangely tantalizing to see something so familiar on another person, and his breath caught for a moment imagining that the other man might feel the same way about seeing him in his suit.

The rest of the business meal was a study in restraint. Keeping up a light conversation with the woman to his right, Harry found it hard to keep from glancing at the other wizard – for he must be, to fit into Harry's clothing so perfectly – and keeping his mind on innocuous things. When the meal ended, however, he felt a tingle of anticipation at the thought of reclaiming his clothing and feeling the other man's body heat, smelling his scent…

After a last drink the group split, Harry accompanying Mister Snape to the higher levels of the hotel in order to exchange suitcases. They passed the other man's room first and picked up Harry's suitcase, moving on in silence to retrieve the pale-skinned man's suitcase from Harry's room. There was a tension in the air that Harry didn't know how to dispel, but they reached his door before he could come up with anything decent to say.

"Please come in," he murmured as he opened the door, putting down his suitcase next to the other one and hearing the door shut behind them. Crouching to pull his pajamas from his suitcase, he gave the silent man a quick glance.

"Just give me a moment to change," he said, already heading for the bathroom, "then you'll have all your clothing together." Before he could disappear into the other room, however, the other man's voice stopped him.

"I would prefer to ensure my suit is folded appropriately," the man said levelly, and Harry's mouth ran dry. Turning back to meet the dark eyes of his business partner, Harry felt a slight shiver run through him. The man's gaze was level, his face unreadable – but the suggestion lay heavy in the air.

Finding himself lost for words, Harry simply nodded, frozen to the spot as the older man stepped closer.

"Allow me," his companion said, and Harry turned fully, taking a step closer to the other man. In such close proximity, they both felt a spark flying between them as Severus Snape took the pajamas from Harry's hand, tossing them back into the open suitcase without looking. Then he lowered his eyes to Harry's torso, deftly undoing the buttons and slipping the jacket off Harry's shoulders, the silk lining whispering a caress as it slipped across the fabric of the shirt. Harry watched with bated breath as the man folded the jacket, hardly able to believe this was happening as those long, pale fingers smoothed out any possible wrinkles before laying the jacket aside and turning back. With just a few movements the shirt fared the same treatment, and Harry suddenly felt very self-conscious standing there in his undershirt, feeling both too hot and too cold in the silence of the room.

But then Snape gave him a look that made his breath hitch with the heat and appreciation in it, and when the man kneeled down to undo his shoelaces Harry realized how shallowly he was breathing, intent on every movement of his companion.

Holding the shoes for Harry to step out of, Snape placed them aside just as carefully as he had the shirt and jacket – then the man turned back, still on his knees, and reached for Harry's fly. Harry swallowed hard at the butterfly touch of long fingers as they undid the single button and slid the zipper down, flat hands smoothing up his hips before hooking at the waistband and pulling the trousers down and off. Snape didn't look up as he carefully smoothed out and folded the suit trousers, but Harry was acutely aware of the fact that the man was still on his knees before him. The urge to reach out and touch the silky black hair was overwhelming, but Harry stood still in the same position Snape's dark gaze had locked him in.

Then the trousers were laid aside, and Snape's attention was back on Harry. A single pale hand reached out and smoothed over Harry's calf, gripping his ankle and urging him to lift up his foot in the back. Leaning forward, Snape stripped the sock off his foot and placed it aside, repeating the process for the other foot – and leaving Harry clothed only in his own possessions.

Snape rose smoothly, stepping close to Harry and resting a single palm on the shorter man's chest.

"Do you care to reciprocate?"

Harry's eyes flicked immediately to Snape's face, and, willing his heart to stop beating so hard, he replied, "I'd love to." He knew his arousal must be more than noticeable, the rasp in his voice only betraying it further, but the sudden flash of Snape's eyes assured him that he wasn't reading things into this situation.

Keeping his fingers steady was an act of will in and of itself, but Harry undressed his taller companion just as methodically as Snape had him – and if his fingers lingered slightly over the zip of the black slacks, then the other man certainly wasn't calling him out on it.

Sooner than he might have wished they were both standing there in their underwear, both of their bodies similarly wiry and pale – and aroused. Harry reached out to place his palm against Snape's chest in turn, feeling the man's racing heartbeat.

"Allow me..." he whispered, leaning up to press his lips against Snape's, and when the other man tilted his head and parted his lips Harry's control finally snapped. Pressing close with a sharp exhalation, he tangled a hand in Snape's hair and slipped the other under the man's undershirt, pressing his hand flat against the curve of Snape's back and finding himself kissed back just as fiercely. They stripped off the rest of their clothing with impatient gestures and fell onto the bed, the sexual tension practically humming in the air as they came together fiercely.

It was electric, the tension that had built up all evening crackling between them as they brought each other higher in a dizzying rush, both of them collapsing in exhaustion after what felt like no time at all and hours without end. Waking up together the next morning, it seemed nothing less than natural to tease and coax each other in a repeat, staying in bed until hunger drove them from it. When Harry emerged from the bathroom he stopped dead at the sight of Severus Snape in the oversized sweater he'd brought along, the man's look daring him to say something about it. Licking his lips, Harry walked up and grabbed the taller man in a demanding kiss, biting down on the firm lower lip.

"I'm not sure you realize how hot you look in my clothing," he breathed into Severus's mouth, smoothing his hands over the soft grey fabric.

"I could say the same," the older man replied, catching Harry's lips in another kiss. When they left the hotel room Severus was still wearing Harry's sweater, and Harry was similarly dressed in a mix of his own clothes and his new lover's. Somehow familiar clothes just looked so much more... tantalizing on the other man.


End file.
